


Me, you, me

by Quente



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: D1, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 12:19:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quente/pseuds/Quente
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yagyuu realizes that he gets off a lot on ... himself. In short, this is the usual twisted D1 goodness.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>I am reposting works from my PoT livejournal. More to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Me, you, me

Yagyuu stepped into the locker room and saw himself tying his tennis shoes. He ignored the tableau for a moment. Clearly it was Niou in cosplay attempting to rile him up. He said a polite hello to his doubles partner, went to his own locker, and got ready for the day’s practice.

After a moment, noting an unusual silence coming from Niou, Yagyuu glanced over and saw that Niou was very carefully pulling up his socks, aligning each just so over his ankle. That was something that Niou never did.

In fact, it made Yagyuu feel vaguely disoriented. He looked down. No, he was still in his school uniform, wasn't yet in his regular's outfit. Yet there he was, glasses sliding down his nose as he bent over to make sure that each loop of his shoelaces was exactly the same length. Yagyuu sat down on the bench and simply stared, mesmerized by the sight. It was like looking into a mirror and not at Niou at all.

A second later, Yagyuu watched as this other self brushed away a stray bit of dirt from the top of his pure white shoes. No, Yagyuu realized with a sudden suspension of disbelief, this was himself.

Fine. Since it was himself, it wasn't impolite to stare, was it? Yagyuu let his eyes roam all over this other self, seeking for any sign of difference at all. What he encountered instead, with a strange sense of heat in his gut, was a perfect view of his own bottom. Was his bottom really that hot? Just as Yagyuu was forming this shameful thought, he felt the laser beam of his own gaze directed at himself, eyes hidden by the glare of fluorescent light on his glasses.

Yagyuu swallowed, throat dry, suddenly taken by the desire to slide those glasses off his nose and see what lay in the depths of his own eyes. Would these other eyes reveal a fascination equal to his own? He watched as “Yagyuu” straightened up and frowned. "May I help you?"

Yagyuu felt flustered. How did one address oneself? Would the informal do? "Help me how?" He asked slowly, staring at the lean tendons of his own legs.

The other Yagyuu lowered his eyes, cheeks flushing just a bit. "Like what you see?" He pushed up his glasses with a nervous twitch of his fingers. 

With a cold feeling of shock in his stomach, Yagyuu realized that the answer was, Yes.

Yagyuu stood. He walked closer— he couldn't help himself. He slid his fingers beneath this other-self's chin and lifted his face up, tilting it a little too far for comfort so that the other boy finally had to stand. Back perfectly straight, Yagyuu looked the other Yagyuu in the eyes...no, not quite. Yagyuu looked exactly two centimeters down into the other Yagyuu's eyes.

The other Yagyuu looked swiftly away, and Yagyuu finally found the difference. He reached a finger out to brush over the pale lump of skin on the side of the other boy’s chin, wiping off the makeup. 

The other boy’s beauty mark unveiled and disguise broken, Yagyuu dropped his arm, nearly panting.   
Niou stared back at him, familiar smirk emerging through the mask of “Yagyuu’s” impenetrable expression. "Like what you see?" Niou asked again, softly.

*

Later that day, Yagyuu put down his math homework and lay his cheek upon the cool, open pages of his textbook. His mind was awash with images of himself, and he flushed at the implication. Was he that narcissistic?

Perhaps a small test would be advisable. Yagyuu got up, went into the bathroom, and barricaded the door. He stared at himself in the full-length mirror, forehead descending to rest with a bump upon the glass. 

He was already half hard. His hand brushed down his body, over a nipple, over his abdomen. He watched as he undid his pants button by button and reached in a hand to tug out his growing erection. His fingers slid along it—up, down, over his boxers, and Yagyuu felt himself aching with need. This wasn't good...

Yagyuu’s mind filled with the thought of someone behind him, his hands in duplicate closing around his cock and tugging the shaft while his thumbs slid up over his cock tip. Yagyuu imagined the feeling of glasses against his hair, teeth against his neck, and felt his own calloused palm constricting and releasing and stroking and caressing with just the right heft and pace.

Yagyuu felt the ache in his shoulder from where his imaginary second self was digging his teeth in hard. His breath came faster and images flashed through his brain. He wanted to push down his own pants. Slide a wet finger against his own rear. Slip it in and feel how hot he was. And then, with a shameful rush of blood to his face, he imagined pushing his cock deep inside of his own rear, shoving it in with a hard, hungry push, seeing how deep he could drive into his own virgin bottom.

This was strange. This was bad. His balls constricted with a tight ache and he imagined staring into his own eyes with each deep thrust, lips meeting his own lips as glasses clinked against glasses. His hand tugged up hard. He cried out as he came all over the mirror and watched, breathing deeply, as the come slid in sticky strands down his reflected stomach.

"Are you okay, Hiroshi?" It was his mother, just outside the bathroom door.

"Yes," Yagyuu said, controlling his voice with a bit of difficulty. "Just dropped something on my foot." No, he thought with shame. I'm overwhelmingly in lust with...me.

Still hard, he turned and looked around the bathroom for what he needed: his father’s toothbrush case and his mother’s baby oil.

 

*

The next day, Yagyuu anticipated finding himself in the locker room again. He wasn't disappointed.

This time he'd apparently arrived late, because he hadn't undressed yet. "Let me help you with that," Yagyuu whispered to himself in a stupidly tight voice, and walked nearer with his hand raised to find the knot of the school tie.

His other self quelled him with a look. "I don't need help," the other Yagyuu told him in a cool voice, "but I do appreciate the offer."

Yagyuu was forced to watch as this other self undid his tie and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Yagyuu’s throat was dry, his penis was hard, and his fingers ached to hurry it up.

"It's impolite to stare, you know." The little mocking lift of the eyebrow slew him. 

A second later, Yagyuu rudely pushed himself against the lockers (it wasn’t rude if it was himself, right?), hand untucking his shirt with a swift yank, fingers delving down to find skin.

"Impolite of you," Yagyuu heard the other self grunt, and then leaned in to shut him up with a kiss, glasses clinking against glasses with a satisfyingly hard jolt. Yagyuu’s tongue encountered the taste of his own lunch bento (so that's where it had disappeared to), and his fingers slid down to find the little scar on his abdomen exactly where it should be. 

Yagyuu kissed his other self with wet enthusiasm, pushing his tongue against primly closed lips, moaning when the other Yagyuu finally opened his mouth and touched their tongues together in a warm and slippery collision. When Yagyuu stopped, he felt like he'd run seven hundred laps around the school.

"I was thinking about you—me—you—all night long," Yagyuu said, lips only a spit-width away from lips. "I did unspeakable things to you—me—you with common bathroom objects."

The other Yagyuu laughed at him, and Yagyuu felt hands run curiously down his back to toy with the dip in his spine. "What did you do to us?" The voice had a low, husky purr to it.

Yagyuu put his lips to his own ear and told himself exactly how he'd used the toothbrush holder. Yagyuu was rewarded by the feeling of a cock growing slowly hard against his groin.

The other Yagyuu's breath sucked in. "We can't...here. Everyone's going to walk in."

"Meet me at my house tonight."

Yagyuu met his other self’s eye with a hard stare and saw cool amusement in return. So like himself. 

Damn it. He couldn't let himself get the upper hand.

*

Niou walked into Yagyuu's house and put his shoes in the entryway. "Thank you for letting me enter," Niou said, and chuckled a little that his behavior was still in polite-mode. All that cosplaying had rubbed off on him.

"Ah, Hiroshi is up in his room, Niou-kun. I'll bring up snacks a little bit later."

Niou sighed quietly to himself. Snacks? That meant he wasn't going to be able to benefit from the wig and glasses in his practice bag. He found Yagyuu's bedroom door and knocked. "It's me."

"So get in here." 

Niou's hand paused in surprise. Was Yagyuu's voice rougher than usual? Niou pushed open the door.

There splayed on the bed, arms behind his head and his legs splayed wide, was Niou.

"What the fuck are you staring at?" Cocky grin. White-grey hair a tumbled mess. “Close the door if you’re coming in.”

Niou sucked in his breath. Were his own legs really that hot? "What are you doing, Yagyuu?” He watched as the other boy shook his head. “Puri. It’s Niou. Or Masaharu, to you.” Another smirk, and his other self unwound from the bed and stalked toward him. 

“So.” There was a wicked challenge in those eyes. “Like what you see?”


End file.
